


The Little Things

by ArchangelRoman



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek/Stiles - Freeform, Fluff, I think too much, Jeep - Freeform, M/M, Sorry Not Sorry, Sort of together, Stiles, but not really, derek - Freeform, hale - Freeform, stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2018-01-04 06:20:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchangelRoman/pseuds/ArchangelRoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek actually returns a favor for once?!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Little Things

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently all of the unfinished projects I have aren't enough... So.. :)

Stiles half sighs, half groans in irritation. Of all the days for his jeep to break down, it had to be the day of the big away game? Being that Stiles was, well, _Stiles_ , he naturally missed the bus to the game. It wasn’t like he would be playing, but Stiles is nothing if not loyal. Not to mention a firm believer in moral support.

Reaching over to the passenger seat, Stiles grabs his cell phone. His first instinct is to call Scott, but just as he is about to hit the call button for Scott’s speed dial, he realizes how pointless that would be because Scott actually _plays_ in the game.

Scott is actually on _time._

Stiles is just about to call it quits and head back inside when he reads the name of a suggested number—Derek. Seeing the name triggers a lot of memories—most of them bad. But it also reminds Stiles that he’s done a lot of things for that sour wolf. Like, giving him rides, for instance.

His finger continues to hover over the call button even after already selecting Derek’s contact info.

“Stop being a coward,” Stiles grits and then presses the call button. Without realizing, he holds his breath.

The phone rings.

Seconds tick by and it feels like forever before Derek answers the phone. And Derek answers as he always does, harsh and demanding. “What do you want, Stiles?”

Stiles swallows, suddenly remembering why this was a bad idea. Derek is kind of terrifying. But he’s already on the phone and no doubt can hear Stiles’ heart doing an impression of a train. “Uh…”

On the other end of the phone, Derek grumbles in irritation. “I don’t have time for this,” he bites, but doesn’t move to hang up the phone. When he speaks again, his voice is slightly less harsh and more concerned. “Is somewhat hurt?”

And Stiles laughs. He doesn’t mean too, but it’s funny. He’s had Derek as a contact for _months_ now and he realizes that this is the first time he’s called Derek without someone being in mortal peril.

“Stiles?” Derek sounds more concerned now, more alert. In the background, there is lots of shuffling and what could be traffic. “Stiles, talk to me.”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles says, fighting to get his nervous laughter under control. “It’s just that—” giggle “every time we talk someone has to get hurt.”

Silence.

“That’s funny to you?” Though such a simple question, it silences Stiles instantly.

“Maybe not “ha ha” funny but--”

“Get to the point, Stiles.”

Before he could lose his nerve, Stiles rushes out, “I need a ride.”

Silence descends once again, bringing his friend awkwardness. More seconds tick by.

“Derek?” Stiles questions, eyes shut tight whilst he fights his body’s impulse to fidget. The silence makes him antsy like that.

“What?” It’s not a response to Stiles’ prompt, but a late, confused response to Stile’s statement. As if Derek could not believe what Stiles had said.

Because Stiles is Stiles and simply explaining that his car broke down and he needed a ride to the away game is just too difficult, he proceeds to take the easy route and explain in excruciating detail what he thinks is wrong with his car. He’s about five or so minutes into his explanation before Derek cuts him off.

“Get in.”

Stiles, still stuck on the theories of why his jeep won’t start, is a little slow to catch up. “Huh?”

“Get in the car, Stiles.” Derek demands. He sounds amused.

“What are you--?” As he is talking, Stiles is twisting in his seat to look behind him, forgetting completely that he has mirrors for this type of thing. Parked noiselessly right behind his jeep is Derek’s black Camaro. It’s impossible to see if sour wolf is actually cracking a smile through the dark tint on, well, all of his windows.

Without warning, Stiles clicks ‘end’ on the phone and grabs his backpack from the backseat. He slides easily out of the jeep and locks it behind him before making it around to the passenger side of the Camaro, talking before he even has the door open.

 “—you so much,” he was saying as he pulls on his seatbelt. “You have no idea how huge this is for me.”

Derek doesn’t look at Stiles when he gets in; too busy doing whatever on his phone. Only after Stiles is fully in the car with his seatbelt on does Derek lower his own mobile and spare Stiles a glance. The boy looks great. His hair is disheveled from running his hand through it too many times and his cheeks are rosy, whether from the sting of the wind or his panic, Derek isn’t sure. “I’m sure it’s huge,” Derek says, feigning carelessness.

Stiles gives him a look of curiosity and that is the last thing Derek notices before he pulls out of the driveway and turns onto the road to start the journey towards the away game. Every so often, he’d cast a glance at Stiles and find the teen smiling.

“What?” Derek demands, lowering the music to hear the reply.

Stiles presses his lips into a line, as if fighting a smile. Derek thinks for a second that he’s not going to answer, but then Stiles explains on a laugh, “You’re actually returning a favor!”

Derek just rolls his eyes and turns the music back up, a small smile on his face as he drives down the clear coast.


End file.
